


Some Break Their Nose, Others Dislocate Their Shoulder

by errizabesu



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bickering, First Meetings, Fluff, Happenstance, Keith with a lil ponytail, Lance wears glasses, M/M, Pre-Relationship, and is a campus athlete, and is a nerd, ofc they bicker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 21:18:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12307986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/errizabesu/pseuds/errizabesu
Summary: “Excuse me.”Keith sincerely hopes that wasn’t directed at him.“Hey,” the voice tried again. “You with the nosebleeds.”Rude.“Mind pushing up my glasses for me? I can’t really move my arms.”Or, the one in which a bored Keith and a partially paralyzed Lance start comparing stories on how they ended up in the ER to begin with





	Some Break Their Nose, Others Dislocate Their Shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> Story is set in Japan because I originally wrote this for an anime fandom and I'm too lazy to do more background research or relocate the story setting, hope y'all won't mind!

“Excuse me.”

Keith half-heartedly glimpse to the side, hoping that that _excuse me_ wasn’t directed at him.

“Hey, you,” the voice tries again.

 _Me?_ Keith silently mouths at the boy sitting at the chair one spot away from him. It was only seconds later that Keith realized they are the only two waiting in the halls outside of the busy emergency room. Which made him wonder how much blood did he lose, clearly enough to make him lightheaded and not aware of his surroundings.

“Yeah you with the nosebleeds.”

 _Rude_.

“Do you mind pushing up my glasses for me? I can’t really move my arms.”

Keith glanced the boy from top to bottom. He tries not to judge people from their outer looks but _nerd_ is the only first impression he got from this person. He has tanned skin, visible dark circles around his eyes, and unruly short hair that is the fitting definition of a beautiful mess. He has a worn out Area 51 shirt under an unzipped hoodie with a prestigious national university logo on the right chest, giving the said man an intellectual vibe, and his obviously slipping half-rim glasses just emphasizes it.

Keith carefully turns his head, inhales audibly through his mouth, and pushes the frame of the glasses with his index finger of his free hand while the other keeps pressure on his nose cartilage as an attempt to stop the bleeding.

“Thanks,” he said.

“No problem,” Keith answers shortly. He never thought talking with a blood-clotted nose would be this uncomfortable.

The nerdy looking boy then shakes his head as he attempts to get his hair off his forehead, it was useless. He tried again, huffing at yet another failed attempt, and tried again and again and god, this guy just can’t sit still. See, this is why Keith opted to let his hair grow a bit longer and put it up in a small ponytail. Unable to ignore the unnatural gesture, Keith rolls his eyes and brushes the boy’s brown hair away from poking his eyes.

He murmurs a sheepish thank you at the unexpected gesture and offers a smile just as Keith pulls back.

“Is it physical injury or do you happen to have some kind of genetic blood-related disease that cause such nosebleeds?” his voice slightly echoed through the empty walls.

“Physical injury,” Keith answered in discomfort because of the blood trickling down the side of his lips.

“Bar fight?” he asked curiously thus starting a conversation. The boy clearly has no idea how annoying it is to talk with a nosebleed.

“You think that’s how I got this?” Keith responded anyways, feeling slightly offended because it’s a public secret that only assholes get involved in bar fights.

“Well, I know that the top three causes of facial injury is either trauma accident, walking into a fixed object such as a wall, or getting punched in the face. There wasn’t any commotion when you entered the ER, so I’d say you weren’t in an accident and you don’t look like someone clumsy enough to walk into wall. Eliminating the other probabilities leaves me with only one remaining possibility: getting punched in the face. Besides, it’s a Friday, the night is young yet here you are in a hospital with blood running down your nose—so did you get into a bar fight?” he pointed out swiftly as if he rehearsed everything before. Quite impressive, actually.

Keith raised an eye brow, “What are you, Sherlock Holmes?”

“Did I get it right?” he asked persistently although his eyes show how giddy he was hearing how Keith just called him.

“What makes you think I’ll answer to that?” Keith scoffed.

“Because you look utterly discomforted so I thought I’d help distract you from the pain,” he answered innocently.

“By talking about how I got the injury in the first place?” Keith lets out a chuckle, “You really are as weird as you look.”

“Says the one with blood stains on his face and shirt,” he threw back the tease, “Come on, how you got that nosebleed?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I like long stories.”

Somehow Keith isn’t surprised.

“You’re asking me to talk while holding my head up and hope that the bleeding will stop. How inhumane can you possibly be?” Keith hates how his voice sounds with a stuffy nose.

“Well usually I play games on my phone but since my arms refuse to properly function, I thought I’d give conversing a shot,” he said while pointing his injured shoulder with his head, “Besides it’s not like you have anything better to do.”

“Only if you tell me how you dislocated that shoulder,” Keith struck out a deal.

“That’s not fair. I asked you a question first. The polite thing to do is answer,” he replied with an unintentional pout.

“Well calling me ‘you with the nosebleeds’ isn’t exactly polite, is it?” Keith points out.

“You’re right, sorry. Let’s try again. Hi, what’s your name?”

“Keith,” at this point Keith noticed there is no avoiding conversation. “And yours? Or should I start calling you ‘you with a dislocated shoulder’ out loud?”

“Or you can stick with Sherlock Holmes,” he slyly requested with a smirk.

“Not in your wildest dreams.”

“You can be my Dr Watson,” he playfully insisted.

“I’ll pass, nerd,” Keith puts his free hand up as he couldn’t shake his head.

“Lance,” he finally confided, “By the way _nerd_ is a compliment.”

“I never meant it as an insult,” Keith said as he threw Lance a glance from the corner of his eyes.

“Oh,” Lance looks surprised, “I suppose there is always a first time for everything.”

“You get that often?” Keith asked.

“I’m studying astrophysics, so yeah.”

“Even in a notable research university like Tohokudai?” Keith raised an eyebrow.

“I never told you where I study,” Lance remarks.

“You’re wearing a campus hoodie, so I assume you go there,” Keith said.

“If I had a Universität Mozarteum Salzburg sweatshirt on would you think I go there as well?” Lance asked, like he’s testing him.

“No. It’ll be like those Oxford or Cambridge shirts everyone has,” Keith reasoned, “And if you really went to Mozarteum I really am sorry that you dislocated your shoulder because you won’t be able to play any kind of music instrument for at least a week.”

Lance lets out an impressed smirk. He didn’t think Keith is familiar with the famous Austrian music university he mentioned.

“My sister went there for an exchange year and she bought me one of those sweatshirts,” Lance said. “You go to Tohokudai as well?”

Keith shakes his head. “No, I go to Myudai.”

“Ah, I thought so.”

“ _Excuse_ me?” Keith raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying that I can’t get into a national seven university?”

“No, no no no no, geez, hey I never said that!” Lance’s voice is high pitched in panic. “I mean, you said that you weren’t in a bar fight, my next guess is that you injured yourself during sports practice. Come on, you’re obviously practice some kind of sport just looking at the way you sit with your back straight and by your gestures alone. Myudai has an exceptional physical education department and a very good college sports reputation—it’s only logical you go to Myudai.”

“I’m both impressed and creeped out, if we hadn’t met in a hospital I’ll seriously think you stalked me.”

“Did I get it right?” Lance asked, head slightly tilted with curiosity.

Keith exhales heavily, “Yeah.”

“Even the P.E. bit?” Lance looks surprised himself.

Keith tiredly looks to Lance’s delighted expression, “Yes, I’m a typical P.E. student in Myudai who got in through sports scholarship and is now campus athlete. At least half the kids in my major are like that.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re one of those annoying full-of-themselves football jocks,” Lance says carefully.

Keith shakes his head, “Kendo.”

“All is well then,” Lance chirps, back to his friendly nature.

“Not all of them are jackasses, you know,” Keith just had to defend his friends who are in the campus team.

“I’d be surprised to meet at least one who isn’t,” Lance challenges.

“I already have two in mind,” Keith replies.

“So are you going to tell me how you got that nosebleed or nah?” Lance reverts back to their original topic.

Keith really, really doesn’t want to talk with his funny wheezing stuffy-nose voice but like Lance said it’s not like he has anything else better to do.

“Fine,” Keith gives in and turns his body to face Lance since moving his neck hurts, “I’ve been working in this bar near my campus for a year or two to help cover living cost—“

“Hold up,” Lance cuts off, “A kendo campus athlete, studying to become a P.E. teacher, and working in a _bar_? This must be one hell of a story. Sorry, please carry on.”

Keith rolled his eyes before continuing, “Anyways… I needed the money and the work shifts don’t collide with classes so I took it. Some days are good while others not so much, well you know how bars are like—“

“It depends. Are we talking about upper class ones where people drink fine wine or college bars where loud obnoxious campus athletes gather?” Lance asks again and earning an annoyed stare from Keith, “Loud obnoxious campus athletes besides you and your two friends.”

“Actually, I was annoyed because you keep cutting me off but thanks for clarifying,” Keith slightly wipes traces of blood around his nose and lips before continuing. But of course, Lance just has to interrupt again.

“We should ask a nurse for some tissues,” Lance suggested while Keith concentrates on getting the blood off his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Nah this shirt is already ruined anyways,” Keith refused. True, Lance thought, there are bloodstains not only on his sleeves but on his chest as well. Which made Lance wonder, is it supposed to bleed that much?

“No, normal cases don’t usually bleed this much,” Keith said as if he could read Lance’s mind, “And yes, that’s why I checked myself in the ER.”

“Does it happen so often to the point that you know how much it usually bleeds?” Lance asked completely ignoring politeness.

“My first time, but I often give other people nosebleeds and you would know more about it if you let me finish my story.”

“I’m sorry. Old habits. Please continue.”

Keith tried to inhale as many oxygen as his clotted nostrils allow him to before continuing his story, “I work as a bouncer in a college bar and yes, I do understand your hatred for rude campus athletes who has no concept of jail and think that nothing can hurt them. Anyways, today isn’t my shift however the manager called and asked me to come anyways because other bouncers called in sick and there are more ruckus than usual thanks to that _friendly_ match on campus we had earlier today.”

Lance chuckled as Keith emphasizes on ‘friendly’. Of course he is familiar with the yearly athletic event and there is absolutely nothing friendly with how the athletes and supporters party afterwards, doesn’t matter whether they win or lose.

“I told him yes I can come but my black security uniform is in the laundry so I just have to improvise—“

“Then you wore this white shirt instead? That’s like the absolute opposite of black. Come on Keith, you’re not pretty enough to be this dumb,” Lance comments in which Keith decides to ignore and carry on with his story.

“I had a black leather jacket on, okay? Anyways I got there and helped out. An hour later there are some football players getting rowdy and grabbing every ass in sight. We assembled all the bouncers and asked them to leave. We ended up asking several times until the biggest one stands up and pokes me in the chest speaking the classic line, “Why don’t you make us leave!” Without hesitation I grabbed his hand, posted his thumb, and bent his wrist. He instantly drops to his knees and starts begging for mercy. Then we walk him and his friends to the door.”

“And then?” Lance leaned forward like a kid listening to a bedtime story.

 “When we get outside and let them go on their way, this guy lunges and swings at me. I catch him off balance, get behind him, grab his arm and twists his fingers until he screamed for his mommy. Many lessons were learned that night: size doesn’t matter, training for football is not the same as training to fight, and that when someone half your size doesn’t fear you—you should probably wonder why.”

“So you _were_ in a bar fight!” Lance exclaimed.

“Well, technically speaking, yes, but it’s not like I started them,” Keith had to clarify.

“Your story still doesn’t cover the part where you got the nosebleed though,” Lance said.

“Oh, yeah after I almost broke that jerk’s fingers his friend jumps in and punched me in the face. After another set of heated arguments they finally leave, of course not without a string of cursing and swearing. When the other bouncers noticed my nosebleeds didn’t stop after ten minutes the manager drove me to the ER to get it checked. I think I broke my nose but there isn’t any noticeable change of shape except the swelling, right?” Keith lifts his hand from pinching his nostrils and allowing Lance to take a better look.

“It’s hard to tell. But not all nasal fracture is visible from the outside. All I know is if it doesn’t stop bleeding after fifteen minutes, you need to see a doctor to get it properly examined. Besides, losing too much blood can cause other complications,” Lance said.

“I thought you’re studying astrophysics, not human medicine,” Keith said impressed, his thumb and index finger made their way to hold his bleeding nose again.

“My mother is a paediatrician,” Lance said humbly. He then adds, “And I have three younger siblings who doesn’t know the concept of chill.”

“Your turn,” Keith ordered as he pushes Lance’s slipping glasses up his face again even though he didn’t ask for it, “How did a nerdy-nerd like you dislocated his shoulder?”

“You’d be surprised,” Lance mentions proudly.

“Well then surprise me,” Keith challenged.

“For the record, I don’t know any kind of martial art so don’t expect my story to be as heroic as yours, although,” Lance paused for effect, “I did get this injury while stopping someone from getting mugged.”

Keith raised an eye brow and Lance maintained a serious stare.

“You don’t look like someone who will chase down a thug,” Keith said flat-out.

“Wow, judging someone by their appearances. That’s very low,” Lance sticks out his tongue.

“Fair enough,” Keith realized Lance does have a point there, “Carry on.”

“On Fridays I ride my bike to campus so I can get some exercise to compensate my daily activity sitting in front of a computer. So there I was, casually paddling home when I saw an old lady and a middle aged man talking at the corner of a road. It was dim-lighted so I just assumed that they know each other but as I get closer I see him trying to grab her purse and hit her,” Lance paused to observe every slight change in Keith’s expression, which wasn’t really that much.

“So I rushed there in hopes that I can stop the man from taking her purse. But he was quick and just before I got there he already has the purse and is ready to make a run. Luckily, I’m on my bicycle—I don’t need to be world champion to be faster than someone who is merely running. Then I did the first thing that came up to my mind—“

“Call 110?” Keith jokingly suggested.

Lance threw a half-lidded stare before continuing, “I crashed on to him with my bike. That’s how I fell and dislocated my shoulder.”

“Please tell me the lady got her purse back.”

“She did,” Lance confirmed, “But police took it in as evidence as soon as they arrived on scene.”

“What happened to the mugger?” Keith asked.

“Bruises, scratches, and mild concussion. He couldn’t even stand up straight after I crashed to him–and well, I couldn’t really move either because my shoulder hurts. The old lady called emergency services shortly after getting her purse back and waited by my side until an ambulance came and took me here. The mugger is taken to the police station though,” Lance concluded his story.

Keith gently, carefully nodded his head with a difficult to decipher kind of smile pasted on his lips.

“Fascinating, yes, but my story definitely has more suspense,” Keith said.

“Yes, but remember you’re working security in a bar and you’re a Kendo athlete—of course it has more suspense. On the other hand I am, quoting your words, a nerd yet capable of doing such things, give me a little bit more credit,” Lance bargained.

Keith’s jaw dropped open, “I told you a whole story while trying to properly breath through clotted nostrils, at least appreciate my effort.”

“Are we really going to argue about who has the best backstory to their injury? Did I mention that your bar fight story sounds all made up? I am seriously having a hard time believing you could do such a thing. Do you realize how attractive you look even with blood covering half of your face?” Lance blurted out every single idea that’s been lingering in his head.

 _Attractive_. That one slipped through Lance’s lips but Keith looks pissed enough to miss it.

“Well yours don’t sound any more believable than mine is. Although yes, your broad knowledge does impress me, and yes, I like your nerdy charm and all but your story sounds like something you read in comic books—“

Keith’s words are, again, cut off. However, this time it wasn’t Lance.

“Ehem,” a nurse cleared her throat and instantly gained both Lance and Keith’s attention, “Keith Kogane?”

“Yes, that’ll be me,” Keith sounds relieved someone broke their petty, childish argument.

The nurse quick scanned her chart again before turning back to Keith, “We found out that your nosebleed is indeed caused by nasal fracture albeit a small case of it, that’s why your nose doesn’t seem crooked or bent in any way. As for the excessive bleeding, have you taken any kind of blood thinning medicine such as aspirin in the last four days?”

“I took some aspirin yesterday,” Keith answered.

Lance’s mouth formed an O. Now it made sense. Aspirin works like magic. It irreversibly inhibits platelet function, which means once aspirin acts on platelets, it prevents them from adhering to each other during their entire life span. It takes about four days until a person regains a sufficient amount of blood platelets to function normally again. Such effects don’t usually do much harm. If the cut is small, there is no need to worry. However, with the extent of Keith’s injury, taking him to the ER is the right decision.

“Alright then, we need you to stop taking aspirin until you fully recover. Eating lots of vitamin K rich food such as oats, beans, and leafy vegetables will help stop the bleeding as well. Another question,” the nurse rechecks her chart, “Did you get hit from the side or full frontal?”

“Full frontal,” Keith answered while throwing a glorified smirk to Lance’s direction. Even without words Lance could see Keith is showing off that he really did got hit in the face.

“Noted. A doctor might have to realign your nasal cartilage but not until the swelling is reduced. We will prescript some drugs to help with the pain and reduce bleeding. Can you come back here again in three days?”

“Absolutely,” Keith responded.

“Super,” the nurse smiled and turns his attention towards Lance, “Lance McClain, is it?”

Lance nodded.

“We’re sorry you had to wait so long,” she said apologetically, “So, good news is you have shoulder dislocation without major nerve or tissue damage. I will call you in again after the doctor is finished treating another patient. The doctor will do a closed reduction procedure to get your shoulder bones back in place. It is an uncomfortable procedure but you will get local sedatives to reduce the pain.”

“Okay,” Lance answered shortly although he cannot hide the discomfort in his face knowing that fixing his dislocated shoulder will be painful.

“Your shoulder joint likely will improve over a few weeks, but you’ll be at increased risk for future dislocation. Resuming activity too soon after shoulder dislocation may cause you to injure your shoulder joint or to dislocate it again,” the nurse continued.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Lance said.

“You won’t need drugs but it’ll be great if you come back in three or four days for a following check-up. The doctor will later explain more.”

“Alright, thank you.”

“Try to be careful around corners next time. It’s such unfortunate that you crashed into a pole, otherwise you’d only get mild bruises. Roads are icy and every winter we get more and more patients coming in with the same issue,” the nurse mentioned just before heading back to the busy ER.

The hall is silent once again after the nurse left with only Keith’s breath through his clotted nostril audible.

“It’s such unfortunate that you crashed into a pole,” Keith repeated the nurse’s words in a very, very annoying voice tone while trying not to burst out laughing. Of course he knew what it meant—Lance made up his story. Keith just wants to hear it directly from Lance himself.

“Shut up,” Lance grumbled.

“Well well well, your story was full of crap wasn’t it?”

The only thing stopping Keith from making fun of Lance is the blood running down his nose. A teasing chuckle took place instead and Lance wish he could stop his face from turning red in embarrassment.

“I really do bike to campus on Fridays, okay?” Lance tried to save bits of his torn pride, “And the story wasn’t hundred percent made up, I read about it somewhere on the newspaper.”

“Why would you even be ashamed of falling off your bike? It’s practically normal!” Keith still had a very wide smile across his face which doesn’t look freaky at all considering the bloodstains around his face. In a room with poor lighting he’d look like a cannibal after finishing his meal.

 _Because you’re cute even when covered in blood like how is that even humanly possible and I want to leave a good first impression_ , but Lance didn’t say it out loud.

“Because I don’t want to emphasize how lame I am! Especially compared to you and your fighting skills—and oh not to mention a campus athlete as well,” Lance whined and for some reason Keith doesn’t find it annoying.

He wiped his lips and chin with this sleeve again before moving forward to push back Lance’s falling glasses again. Keith now wonders whether Lance’s glasses is loose after the fall or is it already too big from the start.

“Thanks,” Lance murmured, still with a pout on his face.

“Actually,” Keith started carefully, “I wasn’t being completely honest with you.”

Lance turned his head fast as if mocking Keith for his inability to move his head because of his broken nose.

“I didn’t—well, I didn’t get punched in the face,” Keith admitted sheepishly.

Lance’s eyes widen and a mischievous smirk crept up his face. Keith instantly regretted his decision to come clean.

“Aha,” Lance muttered wolfishly, “Are you really working in the campus bar though?”

“Yes, but as the bartender,” Keith said proudly, “And I really am in the Kendo team. I’m even vice-captain.”

“Can you really take down someone twice your size?” Lance asked curiously.

“I wouldn’t be chosen for championships if I can’t, would I?” Keith points out.

“I was just double-checking,” Lance raised his non-injured shoulder, “It’s a bit of a blur what is made up and what is genuine at the moment.”

“I really do have two friends in the football team who aren’t jerks though. In case you want to meet new people,” Keith said.

“I think I’d stick to getting to know you better first,” Lance said without realizing how his words brought a shade of red on Keith’s face, “So how did you really break your nose?”

Keith laughed nervously, “I hit myself with a nunchaku.”

Lance looks confused, “Kendo doesn’t use nunchaku, do they?”

“A friend challenged me and I fell for it,” Keith now avoids Lance’s amused grin.

Lance visibly held his laughter, “Hah, lame.”

“See? That’s why I don’t want to admit it!” Keith exclaimed with his face now visibly red with embarrassment.

“Oh come on, at least you know how to use them. I can’t even hold one properly,” Lance tried to make Keith feel better.

“But it’s such a disgrace! You have no idea how much of an amateur mistake it is! Promise me you’ll never tell anyone,” Keith insisted.

Lance lets out a teasing laugh but nodded anyways, “Fine.”

“I appreciate that,” Keith scoffed, still pissed that Lance is laughing at him but it didn’t stop Keith from pushing Lance’s glasses back up again for the umpteenth time that evening.

Lance huffed and puffed while keeping his injured arm in position. There were a few seconds of silence but it immediately broke the moment Lance and Keith synchronously glanced at each other and giggled at their own silly made up stories.

“You want me to come in when the doctor treats that shoulder?” Keith suddenly asked, surprising even himself.

“I’m not a martial artist but I’m still a man. I can handle a closed reduction procedure,” Lance insisted.

“Alright then, tough guy,” Keith remarked. He unconsciously lets out a smirk noticing how innocent Lance is. This must be his first bone injury.

“There’ll be sedatives though, right?” Lance’s face suddenly changed.

“ _Local_ sedatives,” Keith emphasized, finally Lance got the idea, “They reduce the pain but it still hurts.”

“You’re just messing with me,” Lance shrugged off.

“Campus athlete, remember?” Keith pointed himself, “My offer still stands. It’s never comfortable going there alone. You can, um, hold my hand or something.”

Keith awkwardly threw his gaze away although that wasn’t necessary because Lance is trying hard to hide his face as well.

“T-that’ll be nice, thanks,” Lance finally agreed and breaking their silence, “Just—don’t tell anyone, okay? Especially not my roommate, he’s the reincarnation of Lucifer himself!”

Keith chuckled before giving Lance an assuring smile. Only now Lance noticed that he likes seeing Keith’s smile.

“This is going to be a lousy weekend,” Lance groaned as he recalled the nurse’s words about resting his shoulders for a few days.

“At least you’ll be able to move properly again after the procedure. Who knows when this bleeding will ever stop,” Keith responded with a frown.

“Just take the pills prescribed and you’ll be fine,” Lance assured him.

“You’re supposed to come back after three days as well, right?” Keith asked.

Lance nodded, “Yeah. I’ll bring you something as a thank you for helping me with my glasses by then.”

Keith laughed, “Assuming we will come at the same hour.”

“Well, if I don’t see you again by then I’ll just drop by your campus bar. I’m sure I’ll see you there if you didn’t make up that story about being a bartender,” Lance teased, “Let me do something nice as an exchange.”

“Alright, alright!” Keith gave in with a laugh, “I’ll be here around 3 PM since I won’t be able to join practice.”

“Perfect, my last class is at 2 PM,” Lance nods his head. “I’ll bring snacks in case we have to wait this long again.”

“Then I’ll bring us coffee,” Keith says.

Lance lets out a smile, a very sweet smile which made Keith’s heart flutter, “It’s a date then.”


End file.
